


Heirloom of Heaviness

by freckledandspectacled



Series: Prompt Fills [8]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Asphyxiation, Bittersweet Ending, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Neglect, Couch Cuddles, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Future Fic, Gay Bashing, Heavy Angst, His Dad Sucks Okay, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kissing, Love, M/M, Mania, Mental Health Issues, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Kissing, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Psychopaths In Love, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexist Language, Slurs, Strangulation, Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9395531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledandspectacled/pseuds/freckledandspectacled
Summary: After over a decade of running, Ed's father finds him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to flux--and--flow on tumblr for tearing this beast apart. You the real MVP. I finally caved and used a song for a title rip.
> 
> Read the tags, people. It's pretty awful.

He doesn’t know how his father found him, but he had. Ed thought he had left that all behind, but he was wrong. So wrong. He knew making such a public spectacle of himself was a risk, but it had been one he was willing to take when Oswald had unexpectedly appointed him as chief of staff. Ed has been so caught up in the moment, he’d forgotten the possible consequences of accepting. He hadn’t wanted to make Oswald look like a fool… and truly, he had been touched.  


Accepting had not been worth it, though. Not if his father had found him.

This morning he had been working at his desk when his secretary had informed him he had an important caller. He’d taken it, nothing out of the ordinary.

Then he heard his father speak.

“Hey there, kiddo, long time no see.”

Ed dropped the phone like it had burned him, terrified he was hallucinating. He hadn’t had an episode involving his father since he had become involved with Oswald. He’d been doing _so well_.

He felt sick just at the sound of his voice, dashing to the bathroom, slipping around corners in his fancy shoes. Ed made it just in time to lose his breakfast. Once he’d finished hyperventilating, Ed checked himself in the mirror, making sure nothing was out of place. He was fine. He was cool, calm, collected, and composed. He was in control. Not a hair out of place.

Ed informed his secretary he was feeling unwell and to cancel his appointments. Then he retreated to his bedroom and had a complete breakdown. He was laying face-down on the bed, his smudged glasses abandoned on the nightstand as he continued to cry into an already soaked pillow, when Oswald came in.

“Ed, you didn’t meet me for lunch and your secretary said you called out sick. Are you feeling unwell? I can have Olga make you some—Ed? Ed, what’s wrong?” 

Ed didn’t want to look at him. He knew his red and dampened face would give him away, if the fact that he was laying on top of the sheets and fully clothed didn’t. Oswald perched on the bed next to him. 

“Ed, please talk to me. You’re scaring me,” Oswald pleaded, pushing Ed’s hair out of his face. Ed turned his face further into the pillow. Oswald’s kindness was, oddly enough, making him tear up even more.

“Edward Nygma, you will tell me what is wrong right now or so help me—”

“A man is looking at a picture of a man on the wall and says, ‘Brothers and sisters I have none, but this man’s father is my father’s son.’ Who is the man in the picture in relation to the man looking at the picture?” Ed blurted, rapid fire. He almost seemed manic.

“I don’t know, Ed,” Oswald said, taken aback at how quickly Ed had burst forth with the riddle. Usually he tried to bring it down to speed, but it seemed like he couldn’t help himself.

“The man in the picture is his son,” a beat, “the man looking at the picture is the father,” Ed rasped, his throat rough from the choked gasps and sobs of earlier. Oswald paused a moment as the reason for Ed’s grief dawned on him, then started cooing over him.

“Oh, Ed, my deepest condolences. I’m here for you, I know how hard it is to lose—”

“He’s still alive!” Ed snapped. Oswald wouldn’t understand… his parents had been perfect. His home life had been a dream.

Ed’s had been a nightmare.

“Ed, I don’t understand what’s going on with you. I want to help, but if you would rather I leave—”

“No!” Ed interrupted. “No… stay, please. I—I want you to stay.”

“Alright,” Oswald said. He petted Edward’s hair and waited. Ed didn’t want to move; Oswald’s fingers carding through his hair felt very nice. But… his boyfriend was a busy man.

“Shouldn’t you be leaving for the new firehouse soon?” Ed inquired.

“No, I need to be here,” Oswald said with conviction. Ed finally pulled his face out of the pillow. He rolled over, then patted the spot he just vacated on the bed, indicating Oswald should join him. Oswald kicked off his shoes and slid in next to Ed, resting his back against the headboard with his legs stretched in front of him. Ed plopped his head into Oswald’s lap, and Oswald took that as his cue to continue stroking his hair. Ed allowed Oswald to soothe him for a minute, until he felt safe and firmly rooted in this reality.

Ed finally sat up, clambering over Oswald’s legs and planting himself between them, his back to Oswald’s chest. He sank down until he could rest his head on Oswald’s shoulder and took a deep breath. He pulled Oswald’s arms around him and kept his hands over Oswald’s. This was better. If they had to have this conversation now, he didn’t want to have to look at Oswald, but he still wanted the comfort of his embrace.

“Go ahead then, ask,” Ed finally announced, looking over the room. He had already covered all of the mirrors; this was going to be okay.

“Ask you what?” 

“All the questions you must have about my father.” 

Oswald didn’t want to probe to deeply into what was clearly a sensitive subject for Ed, but he needed to know the basic facts so this wouldn’t be an issue in the future. He decided to establish what happened to trigger Ed’s breakdown.

“What sparked all this?”

“My father called my office this morning,” Ed said. His voice was monotone, robotic. Oswald took this as another sign he was dissociating, but he knew enough himself about unhealthy coping mechanisms, and if this was what it was going to take for Ed to get through this long overdue conversation… well, that was what had to happen, then. 

“Why were you crying?”

“I was frightened.” 

“Of what?”

“My father.” 

Oh. The answer was not unexpected, but given Ed’s reaction to something as minor as a brief phone call…. Well, it indicated something much worse than was apparent on the surface. He didn’t want to ask this next question, but—

“Why?” Oswald said gently, hugging Ed tighter to his chest. He hoped he wasn’t holding him too hard.

“He… he scares me.” 

Ed sounds almost… childish? His speech pattern was devolving, none of his usual eloquence present, and he was refusing to elaborate, which made this harder for Oswald. Oswald didn’t like playing couch therapist with his boyfriend. Especially if it made him like this. Ed felt catatonic in his arms, and his speech wasn’t disproving the idea either.

“Why does he scare you?”

“He hurts me.” Ed felt Oswald’s body tense under his, the tremor that went through his hands. 

“That’s enough, Ed. That’s all I need to know. You don’t have to tell me anything else, alright?” Oswald wanted to kill his father. Ed had only broken down about this one other time. Oswald had assumed Ed’s father was dead, and that there was nothing he could do about it. He and Ed had… other issues to discuss, at the time. The details of this had seemed irrelevant. Now he had confirmation. Ed’s father was alive, he was abusive, and he terrified his grown son.

“I’m sorry I’m like this,” Ed whispered. He was starting to shake. His fingers tapped over Oswald’s without rhythm (or at least, not in any pattern Oswald could pick out) and Oswald felt Ed’s breath quicken. He moved from catatonic to panic as the dissociation ended and his leftover emotions overwhelmed him. Super.

Oswald was better at dealing with Ed when he’s overwhelmed, at least. He hugged him so tightly, he wondered if it was bordering on painful. He whispered reassurances in Ed’s ear, stroking over his biceps.

“Don’t be sorry, I love you. I will never let him touch you again, do you understand? Never. I will always keep you safe—” on and on he went until Ed’s breathing was in time with his. Ed did that on purpose, he knew that.

“I don’t know what to do,” Ed admitted at last, “I never did when it came to him.”

“Ed, you know I’ll do anything for you. If you want me to get rid of him—”

“No!” Ed gasped, “No, Oswald, he’s… he’s still my father. As long as he’s alive there’s a chance he might—he might—”

Ed couldn’t finish; it was too deep an admission. It cut too close to the core of who he was, why he grew to be the man he was.

“He doesn’t deserve you, Eddie. If he can’t appreciate how truly special you are, then to hell with him, you have nothing to prove.”

“I still _feel_ like I do. I can’t help it. For as long as I live, I will always be trying to understand why he doesn’t love me—how I could make him love me.” 

Oswald didn’t understand the feeling. If someone didn’t care for him, he killed them and moved on. He didn’t have the same desire as Ed for others to recognize his superiority. Anyone who didn’t respect Oswald ended up dead. Ed wanted to convince people of his worth, to prove it to them. Though Oswald didn’t personally understand the need, he knew that it was there for Ed.

Ed required constant admiration. He couldn’t stand to be belittled. Yet he allowed his father to abuse him and still desired to somehow change his father’s opinion of him. Oswald wished he could convince Ed that he didn’t need his father’s love, but it was apparent that this was deeper than he could imagine. Rejection from a parent was devastating; Oswald has seen it enough in the criminals around him. 

“Whatever he did to you, you didn’t deserve it. You were a child.” 

Ed stayed quiet. 

“Ed, listen to me, you did not deserve it.”

“Maybe not all of it,” Ed whispered.

“No, none of it. Not a damn thing. He should never have laid a hand on you, you are his son! Nothing you could possibly have done gives a parent the right to lay hands on their child. _Nothing_.”

Ed shook his head in disagreement. Oswald sighed. He had years of insecurity, guilt and internalized blame to undo. He didn’t expect it to happen in one night. Now he knew the extent of it, which meant he could help Edward more than he was able to before. That was something. 

“We should invite him over,” Oswald suggested. Ed twisted in his arms, incredulous.

“Oswald, I ran for a reason. I made a new identity and changed my name, everything. Why would I ever ‘ _invite him over_ ’?” 

That was new information.

“How old were you when you ran?” Oswald asked. Ed looked taken aback at the subject change.

“Sixteen.”

“How did you manage that at sixteen?”

“I graduated early. Got accepted to Gotham U for the forensic science program. I applied under a new name and doctored my transcript. Just the information, I promise. I didn’t need to lie about my grades.” 

Oswald nodded; it seemed to be important to Ed that he understood that. 

“I forged a birth certificate and hacked into a federal server to give myself a new social security number to match it. When I applied for aid I still used my parent’s information, just made it look like I was another son. I had Edward Nashton declared legally dead, according to public records. It was all just computer stuff, really. Child’s play. Anyways, I got a full ride at Gotham U and I never looked back,” he paused, a frown on his face, “until today, that is. So why, after all that running, would I invite him over?”

“Because he found out where you are anyways, after over a decade of running. Better to do it on your terms than to have him barge in unexpectedly, when you’re unprepared and caught off guard,” Oswald argued. Ed wasn’t the only strategic mind in the room, thank you very much.

“That… might not be the worst idea,” Ed admitted. Oswald sighed. Emotion tended to cloud Ed’s judgement. No matter—that was what Oswald was here for.

“Just think about it, Ed. Besides, wouldn’t it be the perfect chance to impress him, to show off everything you’ve accomplished here?”

“It would be… satisfying, if he was proud of me. For once. He never appreciated my interest in science. It wasn’t a ‘real’ man’s work, according to him. He was a laborer, of course. But he did have a certain respect for politicians, oddly enough…” Ed mused.

“Well, there you have it. You can show off, maybe even earn a little begrudging respect, hm?” Oswald encouraged.

“Yes, I suppose, but… there’s just one thing, Oswald,” Ed said, averting his gaze.

“What is it?”

“He… he can’t know we’re together.”

“Why would tha—oh. Oh, Ed,” Oswald lamented, “He’s not one of _those_ , is he?”

“By that, do you mean a homophobe? Because the answer is yes, violently so.” 

Oswald felt like there was a history there, particularly due to Ed’s use of the word ‘violent’. 

“Ed, it sounds like there’s something there you’re not telling me.” He feels Ed swallow hard.

“My father… I didn’t go home after school, usually. I used to hang out with my chemistry teacher, he was always really nice to me. But really, I just… I didn’t want to go home. My father drank every night and… if I waited long enough, sometimes he’d pass out. Sometimes I’d catch him in a mood though, and that was… I learned to wait. I used to sneak in through my bedroom window but my mother caught me once and told my father and he boarded it up.” Ed stopped, steeling himself. Oswad squeezed him again for encouragement. 

“The high school I went to was very strict. No PDA allowed, whatsoever. Didn’t matter the gender of the students involved. Didn’t matter if it wasn’t consensual, either.  If you were caught, there was a phone call home.” Ed shudders once, then goes still.

“This one boy waited… I had refused to help him cheat in chemistry and he hated me. He bullied me, and he knew about my father. Everyone did. Everyone knew he was a bigot in every way, and that he beat his wife and kid. That was his reputation.” 

Oswald saw red. Everyone knew and no one had helped him? Not one teacher, or the principle? He wanted to hit something, but Ed was still in his arms and that would be… unacceptable. 

“He waited until we were in chemistry and kissed me in front of the whole class and the teacher.” 

Oh, god. Oswald can see this story’s conclusion already.

“I thought Mr. Dowds was my friend, he had helped me with projects and answered all my stupid questions—even my riddles—but he had to report it. If he hadn’t, it would look like special treatment. Favoritism. I begged him, I knew what would happen—he knew what would happen, but he wasn’t willing to risk one of the kids snitching on him for my sake. He took me to the principle’s office. I told her he had kissed _me_ , that I was going to get in a lot of trouble at home… I begged her, too. It didn’t make a difference. She called my father, told him my infraction. She even said that I hadn’t wanted it, but it didn’t matter to my father. I knew it wouldn’t.” Ed shifted against Oswald, hugging himself even as Oswald held him.

“He beat me within an inch of my life. I missed a week of school. When I went back, I was still bruised. Everyone knew. No one helped me.” 

Oswald wants to kill him. He knows what Ed said, but… he can make it look like an accident—

_No. How well did that work out last time, bird-brain?_ If Ed wanted his father alive, that was his decision. Not Oswald’s, he decided, even as his blood practically _boiled_ at the thought.

“He’s going to come here, Ed. I can turn him away at the door but it won’t stop him coming back whenever he wishes. I’ve already given you a different option. Take your time with this decision, let me know what you think is best.” Oswald kissed the top of his head, his temple, his cheek. Ed turned his face to meet Oswald’s lips with his own.

“I love you,” they said at the same time as they parted, smiling at the happy coincidence.

***

Ed receives another phone call the following day. He hangs up swiftly but does not leave his seat. Instead he dials for Oswald’s office.

“This is the office of the Mayor, how may I assist you?”

“Hello Peggy, it’s Ed. Can you get Ozzie for me?”

“Sure thing, doll,” Peggy chirps, lowering the phone slightly and screaming, “Oswald! It’s your boyfriend!” Ed loves that woman’s enthusiasm for her work, but she’s a little… loud. His ear hurts.

“Yes, dear?” Oswald says, distracted. He’s just signing papers but sometimes the reports actually catch his eye, and Ed knows he gets absorbed in thought.

“My father just called.” 

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine, Oswald. He’ll probably call again tomorrow, and I wanted to let you know that… if he calls tomorrow, I’m going to invite him over. You were right. I’d rather be in control of the situation if he’s not going to stop.”

“We should discuss the details over dinner,” Oswald suggests.

“Agreed,” a beat, and then, quieter, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

***

Ed’s father would be arriving shortly. He had spoken to him on the phone yesterday. ‘ _We just switched cable providers and the landline has been acting up_ ’ was his excuse. His father hadn’t suspected a thing. They would have lunch, make small talk, Ed could brag a little, and then hopefully they wouldn’t need to see him again for months.

Their story was that Ed was living in the mansion as part of his office as chief of staff. They had moved some things into his old bedroom, just in case. Ed would, as always, bring flies to lunch and ignore them, and Oswald would inquire after purely professional matters and remain emotionally distant as they took their lunch together. It would be fine. He wouldn’t suspect a thing.

The doorbell rings and Ed goes still. Oswald grabs his arm, heaving him out of the chair. 

“Go, I’m right here. I will be here the whole time.” 

Ed nods, buttoning his jacket, checking his hair in the nearest available reflective surface and striding to the front door.

He opens it. Outside is a man with a few inches on him in height, and several pants sizes. His shoulders are broad from years of hard work, and he dwarfs Ed in sheer mass and volume. His hand coming down on Ed’s shoulder is like a thunderclap as he says, “Hey, kiddo.”

It nearly knocks Ed back a step; his father is still built like a brick house, he sees.

“Hey, Pop,” Ed answers automatically, his mind racing back to the last time he used that word over a decade ago.

“Christ, you look sharp, let me see you.” His father grabs him by the shoulders and whistles. “Fuckin’ fancy man now, huh? Kicking you out was the best thing I ever did for you, boy.” 

He hadn’t kicked Ed out. Ed had left.

He doesn’t correct him. This is the closest to a compliment his father has ever given him. He won’t ruin it.

“Aren’t you gonna invite your old man inside? Thought I taught you manners,” he says, stepping inside and grinding his knuckles into Ed’s hair. Ed almost… missed this particular discomfort. It was often the only affection his father had showed him, even if it hurt. Who knew noogies could be considered a pleasant alternative….

“Yes, of course. Come right this way. Lunch has already been prepared for us by the staff. I hope you don’t mind dining with our honorable Mayor,” Ed says, trying to emphasize his importance.

“Cobblepot? Course not! I like the way that guy gets things done. We need more tough guys like him in politics,” his father says, going on a rant about the monsters that had infested the city and that Oswald was the iron fist this cesspit needed. It made Ed’s pride in Oswald swell fit to bursting. Oswald was meant to lead. 

They reach the dining room mid-rant, and Edward’s father finally stops speaking as Oswald stands to greet them.

“Oswald, this is my father, Mark Nashton.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nashton, you’ve raised a fine man,” Oswald says, shaking his hand. Ed’s father is massive, and his hand crushes Oswald’s as he continues, “Ed is absolutely vital to my office’s operation. He’s made himself rather indispensable.” Ed blushes, trying to signal Oswald to cut it out. He was sounding a little too fond, in Ed’s opinion.

His father doesn’t skip a beat. “Just Mark, Mr. Mayor. I’ve gotta say, I’m a bit of a fan.” He finally releases Oswald’s hand. Oswald sits, gesturing they do the same. He subtly shakes his hand out under the table. 

“Call me Oswald, then. Sit, please.” 

Ed sits at the far end of the table, away from Oswald. He’s never sat here before. Ed sighs, folding a handkerchief over his lap. His father sits next to him. They have a surprisingly pleasant time. Perhaps his father has calmed down over the years, or the presence of the Mayor is keeping him in check. Regardless, Ed’s grateful for it.

His father inquires about his position, what he does as chief of staff, and he almost seems… impressed? Has Ed finally managed to impress him? Oswald remains silent through the meal, biting his tongue. Ed can tell he must long to elaborate on just how important Ed is, how lost he would be without him, how Ed may as well _be_ the mayor himself; all the compliments Oswald pays him daily.

They finish lunch at last, and Ed stands. 

“I’ll have next week’s itinerary for you tonight, Oswald,” he says. Oswald laughs.

“Ed, it’s Monday.”

“Well, wouldn’t you rather know all the grueling public services you have to perform in advance?” Ed teases. 

“Watch your mouth,” his father hisses. “Didn’t I raise you to treat your betters with respect?”

“Mark, Ed and I are good friends. We tease each other all the time,” Oswald interjects, likely noting the way the blood had drained from Ed’s face. Damn. They had been so close.

“He’s always had a smart mouth. You can’t let him get away with any backsass,” Mark insists, rising from his seat as well. He uses his scant height advantage to absolutely _tower_ over Ed. 

“I’ve always enjoyed our repartee,” Oswald says again, more firmly, “I wouldn’t have Ed any other way.” He stands as well. “Shall I walk you out?”

Ed comes back to himself. “No, don’t bother, Oswald. I’m sure you’re very busy.” Ed stares at the floor as he walks to the door. Marks follows, then turns back to speak to Oswald.

“It was great to meet you, just great.”

“Likewise,” Oswald says, lying. 

Ed walks quickly to the door; he needs this to be over, to end on a high note. He stares at the floor and shuffles on his feet while he waits for his father to catch up. Another massive paw clamps over his shoulder, and he brings his eyes up to his father’s face. 

“You did well for yourself, kiddo. I’m… damn proud of you.” 

It’s… it’s all he’s ever wanted.  A compliment. Recognition.

“Thanks, Pop,” Ed says, holding back his tears like he was taught. 

“Eddie!” Peggy’s familiar voice trills from around the corner. “Eddie, where on earth is your boyfriend, he’s been out of the office for hours!” Ed’s jaw drops. No, not now, he had been so _close_. Peggy hadn’t seen he had company, had probably seen him walk by before without his father. How was he going to explain this?

Mark’s face alights with rage. Peggy can’t see it; his back is to her. Ed wants to plead with her not to say more but he’s frozen in fear. 

“You got yourself a boyfriend, Eddie?” Mark says darkly.

Peggy misses his tone entirely. Homophobia is almost unheard of in Gotham. She has no reason not to confirm it now that the cat’s out of the bag, so she twitters, “Oh shit, Eddie, I’m sorry. Did I just spoil it? I know you and Oswald were planning on making the big announcement soon, and all—” she doesn’t get to finish. Mark slams Ed against the wall, his forearm braced across his throat. Peggy screams.

“You fucking cocksucker, I knew it was too good to be true! There’s no brain in there, you just bent over for the Mayor until he gave you a fancy promotion, didn’t you, you little slut! No son of mine’s gonna be anybody’s bitch,” he bellows in Ed’s face, spittle flying from his mouth. He leans harder into Ed’s throat. Peggy roars with rage, smashing her clipboard into his head. It does nothing.

_Not the head_ , Ed wants to say, _he’s got a thick skull and there’s nothing in there to target_. 

His father turns, slamming his heavy fist into her jaw like a sledgehammer. She collapses, not even trying to catch herself; Ed assumes she’s been knocked out.

“I thought I beat the fag out of you,” he hisses, turning back. Ed pushes at his chest, tries to pry his arm off, but he won’t budge. He can’t even scream; he tries. He punches him in the face but it’s like his father doesn’t even notice.

“God, you fucking sissy, you still hit like a girl. I should have known I couldn’t beat it out of you. That’s fine, I’ll just have to finish the job this time.” Ed’s lifted from the floor by the forearm his father has across his throat. He kicks, trying to find purchase, and attempts to knee him in the groin. His father’s other hand keeps his thrashing knees as bay and he realizes… his father is actually going to kill him, this time.

He sees Oswald. _Oh, please, Oswald. Run, call the police, he’ll kill you too._ His vision is blurring as he starts losing consciousness.

“Get your fucking hands off him!” Oswald shrieks. His father looks behind him, seeing the gun Oswald’s carrying. He drops Ed, spinning him and getting his arm around his neck again. Ed gasps for breath; his father has him in a looser chokehold, now. He must know that if Ed dies, he dies.

“I fucking knew it, I knew it was too good to be true. He’s never earned anything fairly in his _life_. I knew he must have cheated his way in here somehow. Tell me, _Mr. Mayor_ , did he suck your cock? It didn’t mean anything. Eddie here will do anything for anyone that gives him even a scrap of affection, huh, kiddo? Just a fucking whore for attention. I’ll bet you were banging your teacher, too, hm? Did you let him fuck you for an A? Is that how you got out early? You thought you could run from your family? Well I found you, you ungrateful little shit.” 

Ed stomps on his feet, clawing at his arms. It does nothing, his father’s boots are a working man’s: steel toe.

“Let him go, and I’ll let you walk away,” Oswald growls.

“Fine, this faggot isn’t worth dying for. Or prison.” He shoves Ed to the ground, bolting for the door. Peggy rouses and jumps up after him, locking the door as it slams shut behind him.

Oswald crashes to the ground next to Ed, letting the gun slide across the floor. Ed has one hand soothing his throat. Oswald takes Ed’s shoulders, pulling him up to kneel in front of him. He tilts Ed’s chin up with his fingers, taking note of the fresh, red rash across his throat that will certainly become a nasty bruise.

“Eddie, fuck, I’m taking you to the hospital, I don’t care,” Oswald blubbers, “This is all my fault, I’m so sorry, I should have realized, I should have known—”

“Please don’t take me to the hospital, they won’t let me see you there,” Ed begs. He needs Oswald right now more than ever. 

“I’ll call a doctor here then. This lunch had been my idea, and yet I failed to protect you like I promised…” Oswald says. 

“Let me call for her,” Peggy says, standing alongside them. “I’m so sorry, Eddie—”

“Go away!” Ed screams, the sound tearing from his abused throat. Oswald shushes him, pulling him into a hug as Peggy scurries off.

“Let’s get you up, come on,” Oswald says, standing and tugging Ed up after him. He holds Ed’s hand, walking him to the couch. Ed sits, and Oswald stokes the fire. Oswald stands, then pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over Ed’s shoulders. Oswald pulls it around him and drops a kiss on his forehead.

“I’ll be right back,” Oswald promises.

“No!” Ed rasps, latching on to Oswald’s wrist, “don’t leave me.” 

“Shh…” Oswald soothes, sinking onto the couch next to him, “I won’t, I won’t leave you.” 

Oswald lays down on the couch, pulling Edward after him. They both fit comfortably with Ed on top of him. He tugs the blanket more firmly around them as Ed rests his head on Oswald’s thin chest. 

“Am I comfortable? I can’t be very comfortable. I’m not very cuddly, I know,” Oswald tries to joke.

“Thank you,” Ed whispers into his chest.

“Ed… you shouldn’t be thanking me, this whole thing was my idea. And now you’re hurt, and it was my fault, and I should have—”

“Shut up, Oswald.” 

Oswald snaps his mouth shut. He knows he can only get away with speaking to him like that because he normally never does. Ed huffs, then pulls his head up, looking him in the eye.

“You thought my father could be a better man. So did I. We were both wrong. This has been a good experience though, I can finally—I can finally accept—” Ed breaks eye contact, staring into the fire, then rests his head back on Oswald’s chest. Oswald feels dampness seeping into his shirt not long after. He pets Ed’s hair and says nothing.

“He’s never going to love me,” Ed whispers after some time. “It doesn’t matter what I do, he’ll always hate me for who I am.”

Oswald can never understand this pain, could never understand what it’s like to be rejected by a parent. It’s a hurt Ed has to deal with, but he doesn’t have to do it alone. 

“My mother was… distant. She let him hit me if it meant he wasn’t hitting her. Not that she didn’t hit him back. They both were awful, drunk. She didn’t hit me though, she just ignored me. Not that she didn’t hate me just as much. No, they both did. They both hated me, Oswald, can you imagine? They got into a fight once about which one of them had suffered more because I was even alive.”

“It got worse after the time I cheated in school. After that, he could never believe I was really brilliant. When I tried to prove myself and do well in school, it all went back to that first time, the only time I ever cheated. He would use it as an excuse to hurt me….. I know now that’s all it was. An excuse.”

“I wanted to prove my innocence, I wanted to prove him wrong. But it was all useless, futile. If I did score high on tests I was a liar and a cheat, but the only way to prove I wasn’t lying, that I really was smart, was to continue to do well. A catch-22. A puzzle I’ve never been able to solve.” 

“Fuck him,” Ed curses. Oswald seems taken aback for a split second; Ed never swears, he only ever uses that word in bed. 

“Right before it went wrong, Oz… he said it. He said he was proud of me. And it didn’t mean a thing, because—because—” Ed cuts himself off with a sob, pressing his face into Oswald’s chest briefly before he continues.

“I love you, Oswald. He’ll never understand that. I don’t need him to. I know who I am, I know what I want, what I like… who I like,” he finishes, glancing up at Oswald again. “He would never be okay with this, and that’s the end of it, for me. That’s the dealbreaker. So fuck him.”

“I love you,” Oswald finally speaks. “You know that. I would be lost without you, Ed. You’re everything to me. If he can’t appreciate just how brilliant, how absolutely bright and incredible you are, then you are completely right. Fuck him,” Oswald concludes, wrapping his arms around Ed.

“It still hurts,” Ed admits, “I think it’s always going to.”

“I’ll always be here for you,” Oswald vows. “Here to soothe that hurt, however I can.”

Ed kisses him, then settles back down on his chest. Oswald watches over him until he falls asleep.

***

Oswald is woken by Ed’s muttering.

“Daddy, no… please… don’t hurt him….” 

Hurt who? Oswald wonders, his mind still clouded with sleep.

“Ozzie… I’m sorry…. I love him, Daddy, please…” 

Shit. _Shit shit shit_. This day had only given Ed more nightmare fuel. His father had haunted Ed’s dreams before, but now Oswald was a feature? It was a new twist on an old fear.

“Shhh… Ed, I’m here. I’m okay. He can’t hurt you, he can’t hurt me. Shhh…” On and on Oswald goes until Ed settles back into sleep. Oswald drifts off soon after.

There was no happy ending for Ed and his father. But at the very least, Oswald would be here for him to the chase the nightmares away.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you hate me? Do you love me? Want to read more angst or never have me write it again? Well I'm not gonna know unless you comment. Or care. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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